


Prayer in the Night

by orphan_account



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Masturbation, critmas treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jester reaffirms her faith to the Traveler.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/The Traveler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75
Collections: Critmas Exchange 2019





	Prayer in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



Jester bites her lower lip, fingers pinching her clit.

This is her favourite part of worship. She recounts the details of her day in her head as she sighs. Taking off her clothes dirtied and sweat-stained from a hard day of work, giving the tavern-keeper some silver to get it all prim and perfect for her as she prances around in her second-favourite dress, one that’s pink and tight and embroidered with hearts.

Until nighttime.

See, Jester… doesn’t like to be alone. She always finds a way around it, convinces Beau to share a room with her, talks into the night so that the encroaching blackness from the sun setting in the tavern window doesn’t _feel_ like loneliness. It’s something that makes her chest tight even now, an empty room for hours on end, by herself.

She isn’t by herself, though. She knew she wouldn’t be, which was why she paid for her own tavern room. It’s why she told Nott to go into town herself, as she peeled off the pink fabric tight against her curves until she was free, arms raised momentarily before she set the dress aside. Then she laid on her bed, one hand grabbing her breast and the other—

Jester giggles, this breathless sound as she squeezes her clit between her two fingers. “Oh, Traveler,” she trills, and runs her thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden between her touch and the air against naked skin. It’s a darker blue than the rest of her skin, like bruised fruit, and Jester moans out in Infernal, “ _See how your best friend and acolyte misses you_.” She feels wet, her cunt clenching around nothing as she continues to tease her clit, continues to pinch her nipple and squeeze her tit. The muscles on her arms and chest flex with the lazy waves of pleasure that run through her every nerve.

The curtains are red, and they move a little with the breeze. It’s a mildly windy night, but Jester kept the windows open regardless. The wafts of cool air only make her wetter, the contrast against the heavy warmth of her cunt sublime. He’s here, he’s here in the way the lanterns flicker with Jester’s uneven breath, and she smiles. “Are you happy?” She emphasizes that last word a little too much, the sudden and insistent pressure on the syllables is at odds with the haze she feels, and Jester feels herself suddenly freeze up, she thinks she might’ve ruined this all—

_Are you happy?_ she hears, and she lowers her head down against the pillow, finally allowing a finger to trail along her entrance for a moment. Then one moment longer, as she closes her eyes and indulges in the warmth in his tone, the way he emphasizes _you_ rather than _happy_. Oh, fuck. Oh, _fuck_. Her throat feels dry, and she swallows, toes curling as she opens her eyes and gazes at the ceiling. Her finger pushes into her cunt, and she clenches on the pressure, clenches on it like a lifeline.

“I’m having fun with you,” Jester says, and she smiles, her finger pulling in deeper and curling against her. Her cunt is wet, and she’s used to fingering herself open, so the digit drags easily inside of her. “Of _course_ ”—she says it like it must be obvious—“I’m happy.” She pulls her knees up, the heels of her feet against the bedsheets and riding them up a little as she pulls her thighs apart.

_Then_ , he says, his voice nearly musical, _of course I’m happy._ Jester giggles once more, feeling like the joy on her face must seem a little stupid to him watching her be silly as she works herself open. Then, his voice lower, in that domineering and caring voice she’s found herself aching for when he keeps his distance, he says, _Add another finger, dear._

Jester does, and her moan for him is exquisite.


End file.
